


It's Just Business

by kadabralin



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Business, Alternate Universe - Human Squip, Blow Jobs, M/M, artificial-love fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 16:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18097880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadabralin/pseuds/kadabralin
Summary: Jeremy works in a corporate office. Squip is his boss. It's not a fun time... usually.Kink meme prompt: Business AU





	It's Just Business

"You're late."

He froze, a half-step away from his desk, shoulders hunched in blatant guilt. Squip hadn't been in his office when Jeremy arrived a whole entire 45 minutes late to work and for some reason believed he was in the clear, an ill-advised sense of optimism against Squip's particular work ethic. He could feel Squip looming behind him, waiting for an explanation Jeremy didn't want to fully disclose. He shuffled around to face his boss, unable to meet his gaze, anxiety bubbling up and boiling over, sounds spilling out of his mouth like they had a mind of their own.

"I- I, uh. It was- Guh." Jeremy risked a quick look up, meeting Squip's disapproving eyes for a millisecond too long. He swallowed and dropped his gaze back to the floor. "O-overslept."

This was, of course, a total lie. He'd been running late because of a long series of embarrassing events that felt like belonged in a particularly cruel sitcom rather than the reality of Jeremy's life, starting at 5 o'clock in the morning. Most of it was his fault, poor choices and even poorer communication resulting in at least one outfit he needed to burn when he got home, and an apologetic email he needed to send to his dad. Squip didn't need to know any of it, they already judged him enough.

It was a wonder he wasn't fired for simply being an ineffectual loser.

"Don't let it happen again."

"R-right. I won't. I'll... I'll set two alarms. From now on." He glanced up a couple more times, smiling apologetically, waiting for Squip to really scold him, yell, or maybe change his mind and tell him to pack up his desk and leave. But that didn't happen. Squip had turned his back to him and walked away, returning to his desk and sitting in front of his laptop with a perfectly apathetic expression on his face.

Jeremy stood there a moment longer, fiddling with a loose string on the hem of his shirt, until Squip flicked his eyes to him again.

"Why are you just standing there? Get to work."

Without wasting another second Jeremy stumbled back and turned away, escaping to the tiny nirvana of his cubicle, ignoring the waves of frustration that seemed to radiate from Squip's side of the room. If he kept his head down and stayed out of the way the rest of the day, maybe nothing else terrible would happen, and he'd be able to go home at the end of the day with a shred of sanity and drink until he passed out.

He'd been doing a lot of drinking since starting this job. Was this a sign of alcoholism?

His plan to stay out of the way and avoid Squip proved a fruitless effort. In fact, Squip seemed to be purposefully sniffing him out, slapping papers on his desk, nitpicking every tiny mistake, telling him to redo an entire Excel worksheet, the copies of this document he'd printed came out crooked and blurry. It went on and on, relentless throughout the day, and by lunch Jeremy wanted to just call it quits. He was tired and stressed, all sense of anxiety and guilt from his lateness gone and replaced by an ever-growing aggravation that gnawed his insides and gave him a tension headache.

What was Squip's problem, anyway? Jeremy'd been late, so what? It was one time. Once. He was usually early! And now he seemed to have a vendetta against him. His day had already started so poorly he'd considered calling in sick, and he regretted not doing it now. Squip never took a sick day. Squip never smiled, or took a lunch break, or participated in office birthday parties. He just worked, and apparently wanted to personally make Jeremy's life a living hell.

If Jeremy weren't so fed up with it, he might have actually worried about the guy's health.

The icing on the cake was when Squip refused to let him leave at the end of the day.

"I need you to file these."

"What? But it's-- it's past five-"

"I don't care." Squip stared down at him, eyes so intense and blue Jeremy lost all ability to stick up for himself and say no. Though, what he should really say is I quit. "These are important. If you hadn't been late this morning, it would already be done."

And so, over an hour past when Jeremy was supposed to be home and lolling around in bed in a drunken stupor, he was stuck in the office with Squip, all alone, in dead silence. It wasn't so bad; Squip didn't talk to him, or nag him, or pay any attention to him at all, and all Jeremy had to do was file a grotesque mountain of papers. It was almost therapeutic in the mind-numbing repetitiveness of it. Could be worse, he thought to himself, after the third papercut.

Things felt a little different now that the office was vacant and half-lit. More relaxed, which, of course, it would be without all the other people here, but even Squip seemed less uptight than he was during the day. He'd loosened his tie a little, sitting a little more relaxed in his chair, typing ceaselessly at his laptop with one hand while he stuck a fork into a bowl of salad with the other.

Which was then, Jeremy realized with surprise, that this was the first time he'd seen Squip actually eat something. He and Michael had started to theorize that Squip was actually some kind of cyborg, or maybe a space alien, because Jeremy was certain he'd never even seen Squip take a bathroom break. What kind of human being actually lived like that? His boss, apparently. But seeing him actually eat real food seemed to humanize him somehow, soften the image, remind him that Squip might be a hardass, but he was still human, and he probably had a family to get back to once Jeremy was done being a monumental failure.

“What are you staring at?” 

Jeremy suddenly realized that he’d stopped filing papers and was just standing there, watching Squip methodically eat lettuce. He turned around quickly on his feet, embarrassed. 

“N-nothing. Sorry.” The silence continued, but felt a little more awkward this time. At one point Jeremy glanced at the stack of papers sitting next to him and realized he wasn’t going to leave anytime soon, not if Squip had a say in it. He should probably take a break. Eat something. Maybe call Michael and tell him that if he never came home to just assume he was dead. Jeremy lightly crumpled the paper he was holding as he considered his options. “I’m, uh. I’m going to make some coffee…”

He stood there and waited for Squip to say something, but he didn’t. They didn’t even bother to acknowledge him. Jeremy chewed his lip, set the paper down, and quickly escaped to the kitchen. It felt like he’d entered a different dimension. The fluorescent lights cast a weird glow on the sanitized whiteness of the kitchen, broken up intermittently with awkwardly arranged fake plants. Jeremy reached up to a cabinet and pulled out the canister of coffee, fully intending to make coffee so strong it probably wasn’t safe for human consumption, when he noticed the pot was still half full. Whoever had made coffee last hadn’t bothered to dump out the cold, rejected leftovers afterward.

It was annoying, but out of all the annoyances of the day, it barely broke top 100. Jeremy abandoned the coffee on the counter and pulled on the carafe handle, only to find it barely budged. It seemed to be stuck, glued to the heating element as if something had congealed to the bottom and cemented itself there. He licked his lips and gave it a few more tentative tugs, then a harder one, and when that didn’t work he used both hands. That seemed to do the trick, but the force of it sent him tumbling backwards, and he had to fumble with the carafe to keep from dropping it, but spilled stale coffee all over the floor and himself.

For a moment all Jeremy could do was stand there, in disbelief, at the mess he’d just made. His shirt was probably stained forever, now. He quickly set the coffee pot down and rubbed aggressively at his face, ran his hands through his hair, tugged harshly at the strands.

“Oh my God, what the fuck.”

His cry of anguish came out a lot louder than he’d intended. Squip probably heard that. Shit, he needed to clean the mess before he showed up and saw what a worthless slob he was—

“Jeremy.” Too late. Squip stood in the entryway of the kitchen, arms crossed, taking in the coffee on the floor, on his shirt. “Did you really need to make such a mess?”

“Could you just— just not be a huge fucking asshole for two seconds?” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and the both of them stood there and stared at each other. Squip, in disbelief, so out of character it was almost comical. Jeremy, anger fading into the dawning realization that he’d just yelled. At his boss. And called him an asshole. To his face. If he hadn’t been at risk of getting fired before, he certainly was now. Jeremy could feel his hands shaking, cold and clammy. He’d just been so completely done that it’d just happened, oh no, what did he do.

“Forget about it.” Squip waved his hand dismissively, startling him, and Jeremy could only stare like a deer in headlights. “Clean it later. Come with me.” He turned and walked down the hall and Jeremy followed after him dumbly, too afraid to say or do anything else except obey. They walked back to Squip’s office and Jeremy stood off to the side as Squip opened a drawer of his desk. “Take off your shirt.”

“What.”

“Take it off. It’s wet.”

He hesitated, but did as he was told, sliding the white shirt, still dripping a little with coffee, and dumping it to the floor. Squip handed him another one, neatly folded, completely wrinkle-free, taken from the drawer he’d opened. Wow. This was nice. He didn’t think Squip had the capacity to be considerate. It was a little big on him, but it’d work until he got the rest of the papers done… Before he could button the shirt, though, Squip moved in front of him, grabbing the edges, buttoning it up himself. Jeremy almost protested, but it was such a strange phenomenon he couldn’t actually get anything out of his mouth. Squip’s hands lingered on the top button, then smoothed the shirt out against his chest lightly, before pulling away.

“So.” Squip had an amused half-smile on his face, yet another thing Jeremy had never seen before and didn’t think was entirely possible coming from him. “I’m an asshole.”

Jeremy flushed. “I- I meant- I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, I…” He was floundering, drowning like a fish in the air. Squip’s smile grew and Jeremy clamped his mouth shut tight.

“You’re right. I am.” Squip looked away from him, stepping off to the side, where he kept his liquor. Jeremy had always thought it was just there for show, or maybe for a privileged client or two. He didn’t think Squip actually drank it. “You work hard. You don’t usually complain. You deserve a reward.” He pulled out two glasses, dropped in a few cubes of ice (where the ice actually came from, Jeremy had no idea), and poured in bourbon from the fanciest bottle he’d ever seen. Squip handed the glass to it and Jeremy took it numbly. “Have a seat. Relax.”

Jeremy glanced over at the black leather sofa at the side of the room. He’d never seen Squip, or anyone else for that matter, actually use it, but it looked comfortable. Jeremy had been sorely tempted many times to sit on it, just for a second, but since Squip never actually left his office, he never had the chance. This seemed to be an opportunity now, and he was absolutely going to take it.

The sofa was just as soft and cushy as he thought it’d be, and Jeremy nearly sank down into it, Squip sitting beside him. He didn’t say anything, just watched him, and Jeremy averted his gaze and took a tentative sip of the bourbon. He’d never actually had it before. He tended to drink all that terrible tongue-numbing sweet shit that he was sometimes too embarrassed to drink in public, and this was the opposite. It was strong and smoky, burning his nose and throat on the way down. 

“Do you have a girlfriend, Jeremy?” 

He nearly spit the bourbon back up. Jeremy sputtered for a moment, face red, opening and closing his mouth in disbelief. What kind of question was that?

“I take it, by the look on your face, that the answer is no.” Squip was smirking at him now, all smug amusement, like a cat playing with a mouse with no hope of escape. “No boyfriend, either, I’m assuming.”

“Y-you don’t know that…” It was completely true, but he couldn’t just, what, let Squip talk to him like this or something. Did this constitute harassment in the workplace? Was Squip actually one of those people those workplace safety videos always warned him about? His face was so red he was surprised the ice in his glass wasn’t melting by the sheer proximity. Squip was leaning in a little closer now.

“You’re very obvious, Jeremy. It’s not hard to guess.”

Jeremy swallowed thickly. “What kind of reward is this supposed to be?” He’d been thinking a raise, or a promotion, or at least a few coupons for a fancy restaurant, not whatever this was. Squip took a slow sip of his bourbon and Jeremy found he couldn’t look away.

“We’re getting there.”

“Okay…” Jeremy tapped his fingers on the glass nervously. How late was it, now, anyway? It felt like he’d been in this office for a week. “So, what is, um… Do you have a… A, uh.”

Squip set his glass aside, shifting so their knees were touching, which Jeremy couldn’t help but notice. He reached out a hand to tug on the collar of the shirt Squip had lent him. “No, Jeremy. I don’t.” It seemed Squip understood his question, or attempted question, despite his incoherence. He still had a smile dancing on his lips and Jeremy found he was completely enthralled by it. It felt like something secret, special, just for him, because Squip never smiled or showed much emotion at all, except maybe contempt. Squip was single, and hot (Jeremy had thought this day one, but the attraction had been immediately doused by his less-than-pleasant attitude), and the physical closeness of their bodies made his skin burn where they just barely touched. 

Jeremy wanted to kiss him. The thought made him blush an entirely new shade of red. Kiss the guy who tormented him all day five days a week? That was a new low, even for him. Was he really that lonely and full of self-hatred that he’d actually be willing to do something like that?

Maybe.

But Squip seemed to be handing him a gift, neatly packaged, waiting for him to take it. How could Jeremy refuse? Squip’s hand trailed from the collar of his shirt to graze lazily up the side of his neck, giving him goosebumps, until his hand came to a stop, cupping his chin, thumb brushing his lower lip. Jeremy felt his entire face tingle.

“What kind of reward do you want, Jeremy?” Squip’s voice dropped to a seductive purr and he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. It couldn’t really be happening. Things like this weren’t possible. Jeremy bit his lip as he tried to think of something smart and sexy to say.

“I… You should… I want you to k-kiss me.”

Good enough. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected after that, but it certainly wasn’t for Squip to just do it. Squip still had one hand on his face and another resting on his hip, and then their mouths were touching and Jeremy felt like he was on fire, but in a good way. Squip kissed him, soft and slow, his heart beating so fast it could explode, and he immediately abandoned his drink on the table and clutched Squip’s shirt, tugging him closer.

“Is that really all you want?” Squip murmured it in his ear once he pulled away, hand that was once on his chin now brushing his chest, and Jeremy had trouble actually computing the question. His breath came out a little faster, and he probably could live with Squip just kissing him into a stupor, but if he was asking…

“N-no.” Jeremy licked his lips, having trouble looking Squip in the face, it was too much, too overwhelming, so he had to avert his gaze. “I want you to touch me.”

Squip chuckled in his ear, then pressed a light kiss to the skin right beneath his earlobe. “Where do you want me to touch you, Jeremy?”

He’d been feeling hot before, but he felt more so now, lust mixed with embarrassment. Did he really have to say it? How could he possibly? Jeremy gave it a shot.

“Everywhere.” He breathed it, Squip’s hands already caressing his chest and thighs before he even said it, leaving him dizzy. The answer seemed to be good enough. Squip kissed him again, a little rougher than before, hands working wonders wherever they went, and Jeremy gripped Squip’s shirt tighter, probably wrinkling it. Then there were hands on his thighs, stroking slowly, up towards where the heat was pooling. 

Jeremy whimpered pathetically when the hands stopped moving. Was that it? Did he have to ask for something else now? But Squip just smiled at him, pressing kisses to his jaw and down his throat, until his hands started moving again. This time they were on his belt, unbuckling it and slowly pulling it away and dropping it to the floor. 

“S-Squip, um…” His hands stilled again and they looked up at him, waiting, probably for Jeremy to get his thoughts together and finish his sentence. “Keep going.”

He did. 

They resumed their kisses, interlaced with bites at the sensitive skin of his throat, as Squip unbuttoned his pants, unzipped them, slowly pulled them down, revealing just how hard he was already with very little contact at all. It probably said a lot about how touch-starved and desperate he really was, but Squip didn’t say anything about it. He was shifting downwards kissing down to his collarbone, working off his boxers, and Jeremy rested his hand on top of Squip’s head, running his fingers lightly through his hair. 

This was a sight Jeremy never thought he’d see, never imagined, and it was so hot he barely knew what to do with himself. Squip, his complete lunatic for a boss, kneeling in front of him, looking up at him half-lidded, hands hot on his thighs, mouth a breath away from his dick. It was almost surreal, a dream, something cooked up by his innermost fantasies as a reprieve from the hell he went through during the day. And then Squip took him in his mouth and Jeremy knew, with a gasp, that this was definitely real and definitely happening, because even his wildest fantasies never felt this good.

Jeremy thrust up into it, unable to stop himself, hand resting on Squip’s head now fisted in his hair. Squip pressed down a little harder on his thighs, keeping him from moving, mouth hot and wet. Jeremy groaned, head tilted back, breath shuddering at the way Squip’s tongue brushed up against him. It was nice, so fucking good and so nice after how stressed he’d been all day, and now it was melting away into nothing. 

He gripped at one of the couch cushions with his other hand, to keep himself from thrusting as Squip took him in deeper, and then he pulled away, mouth hovering inches from his erection, warm breath fluttering against it. Jeremy groaned impatiently, biting his lip, flushed from the way Squip looked up at him. It felt like an eternity, Squip just looking at him while Jeremy just sat there, begging to be touched again. Squip, thankfully, didn’t make him wait much longer, mouth back on him, sucking just the right way, and for a moment Jeremy wondered if he’d actually died at some point and this was the afterlife. An eternity of getting a blowjob from your tyrannical boss.

Jeremy didn’t have time to idle on it long, because Squip moaned around him, sending little reverberations of pleasure through him, a shiver up his spine, and after a few more caresses of Squip’s tongue he came with a loud moan, and it’s a blessing no one else is around, or they’d definitely overhear. 

As he tried to slow his breathing to something more normal and less ragged, Squip stood up, looking cool and unaffected, carefully smoothing the wrinkles of his shirt, brushing his hair back into place, wiping carefully at his mouth. He left Jeremy to just sit there, pants still down, wondering idley if Squip gave anyone else this treatment or if he was just that special. He couldn’t be, but it was a nice thought.

“Clean yourself up. It’s time to go.”

“Go?” Oh. He meant go home. Jeremy awkwardly pulled his pants back on, casting shy glances in Squip’s direction, then acknowledging the stack of papers that still loomed nearby, and remembering the mess in the kitchen… “But I haven’t finished—”

“Worry about it tomorrow.” Squip shut the laptop sitting on his desk and waited for Jeremy to be fully presentable to say anything else. “It’s late.”

“Okay…” He wasn’t going to complain. This evening had already been a million times nicer than he ever could have expected and he wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize the high he was suddenly on. Jeremy leaned down and scooped up his coffee-stained shirt from the floor. “I’ll, um. See you tomorrow, then?”

“Of course.” Jeremy stood there, toying with the shirt in his hands, wondering if he should say anything else, but chickened out and turned around instead, fully intending to leave.

“Oh. And Jeremy.” He stopped mid-step at the sound of Squip’s voice. “Don’t be late.”

Jeremy bit back a smile as he started walking again. “I won’t be.”

Maybe he could stand to work here a little while longer.


End file.
